Ellipsis ... "Give Peace a Chance"

I resigned as wrestling coach last week.

Sometimes you just have to admit you can't do it all, even if it means putting in a two-week notice, the first day of practice for the new season.

Tonight, I reveled in my new found freedom and blew off my nightly ritual of grading papers and answering school e-mails so I could "snuggle" with Koah (his words, not mine) and watch Nature for the second night in a row.

I also read "My Side of the Mountain" to my boys tonight -- to enable a brief melting away of the chronic pain of being a teacher.

And since I've been off Facebook for a while, I'll share the other highlight of the week: Kai wrote his first report on John Lennon. It wasn't the prettiest process. We had to grin and bare it through some rough edits, because the last words of that report were to "give peace a chance ... "

Kai insisted on keeping that ellipsis at the end of his essay because, he said, "peace needs a dot, dot, dot."

---

Epilogue: I have something in common with John Lennon and his son Sean. We all have the same birthday.

Parenting when 'A River Runs Through It'

“So it is that we can seldom help anybody. Either we don't know what part to give or maybe we don't like to give any part of ourselves. Then, more often than not, the part that is needed is not wanted. And even more often, we do not have the part that is needed.” 

-  Rev. Maclean , from a River Runs Through It

My eight year old is testing his boundaries. He struggles with persuasion. He is big enough now that using violence to get his way can have dire consequences. It’s terrible. Sometimes I looked at his red angry face, with its slightly upturned nose and little folds under his eyes, and I think he looks like a “bad piggy” from the Rovio game app of the same name. 

Tonight I made Kai write an apology letter. He can’t do it. He doesn’t see why his actions are a problem. He is still right in his mind. Besides, he is doing what I tell him to do: standing up for what is correct and worth fighting for. However, tonight we made some break throughs after I told him that he needs to start picking his battles. 

“Oh,” he said. “I should just give up.” 

Ouch. 

“No,” I said. “You should never give up. You just need save your energy for battles and fights you can win.”

It’s a hard lesson to learn, I said, that at this age you can’t win many of the battles you have with parents. 

“So why are you punishing me?” he asked, with a very puzzled look. “You interrupt me when I talk.”

“True. I do interrupt you because you aren’t listening to what we need you to hear. I’m punishing you for being disrespectful,” I tried to explain. “You can fight and stand up for what you think is right but you have to acknowledge that Mom and Dad need you to listen and do what we are asking you to do.”

That didn’t sink in.

“Do you know what ‘acknowledge’ means?”

Kai shakes his head. Yes he does know what acknowledge means. He just doesn’t know it.

“It is when you let me know you are listening and hear what I’m saying.”

It’s still a difficult concept to get across to a third grader who is starting to test his boundaries by developing enough sass to peel your fingertips backwards. 

So I made him write a letter. 

“Write what you are thinking now.”

One hour later. The page is mostly blank. 

“I hate writing.” 

“Say it. Then write it. What do you want to say to mom and dad about what is going on today with us?”

Adding another line to his letter, he says, “I agree to our agreement.”

Write that I said. He does.

“That’s much easier. Where did you learn how to do that?”

“Do what?”

“Tell people how to write.”

Internally, I sigh, in relief. The rest of the letter goes much more easily. We even edit his punctuation. Kai is on his way to being a writer. 

And he’s already found his voice. 

After we finished up a simple paragraph about what he is going to do -- to be more respectful, why he is going to be more respectful, and how he intends to make that happen -- he said he had one more thing to write. I could tell he had had an epiphany. 

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Yes.”

I left him to his devices. Expecting, hoping that he writes something touching and heartfelt.

“Don’t read it until the morning,” he yelled from the kitchen table.

“Okay,” I said, now, really wondering what he wrote. 

“Good night dad.” 

“Good night.”

I couldn’t wait to read the final line of his letter. I disobeyed his request and read ... “bacon some day Please?”

I don’t know that bacon is a metaphor. He probably just wants bacon. On the other hand, Kai also likes telling jokes and his written voice reminded me that most of the time I don’t know what anyone needs -- until they tell me. 

Everett Ruess for a Day

On Friday, I pretended I was Everett Ruess. No, I wasn't wandering off into the wilderness to revel in beauty -- to avoid the "discontent bred by cities." 

I was Everett Ruess for a day, visiting some Language Arts and Social Studies classes at work. And a funny thing happened: Squirrelly middle schoolers were interested in history. 

They asked questions. They listened to what Everett had to say. They clapped after I read "Wilderness Song." They sat forward in their chairs and LISTENED.

It wasn't normal middle school behavior to be sure.

For my part, it was really fun reciting some ER poetry, letters, and famous quotes. I felt like a rock star when I walked down the hall: Kids would say "hey, there's Everett Ruess. I found him."

And the one thing that really strikes me from this experience is that some of the kids who saw my presentation -- were only a year away from beginning to "pull an Everett Ruess."

http://www.hcn.org/wotr/pulling-an-everett-ruess